


Helen's Second Act

by vanillafluffy



Category: The Trixie Belden Mysteries - Julie Campbell Tatham & Kathryn Kenny
Genre: Career Change, Gen, Mid-Life career change, Mother-Daughter Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-18 05:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21269852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillafluffy/pseuds/vanillafluffy
Summary: A coda of sorts to "One Big Happy Family", wherein Helen Belden reveals a side of herself that Trixie's never suspected.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Helen's Second Act

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brumeier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/gifts).

When her phone rings, Trixie puts down the knife and blots her face with a paper towel. The display shows her mother’s picture (taken a couple months ago during her surprise visit). The surprise had been problematic, but they’d worked it out in the end.

Her eyes are puffy and she sniffles as she punches ‘Speaker’. “Hi, Moms!”

“Goodness, darling--are you coming down with something? You sound congested.”

Trixie turns on the tap and washes her hands carefully. “No, I’m fine. I’ve been chopping up onions for onion relish--Ben worked a trade with one of our customers, and now we’ve got six bushels of them.”

Helen chuckles. She sounds happy, the way she was when Trixie was growing up. “That’s funny, I remember how much you used to hate anything to do with canning.”

“Except eating the finished product,” Trixie agrees. “But nowadays, the stuff from the store just doesn’t taste right to me, I guess I was spoiled by your cooking!--and I’ve got all this fresh produce at my fingertips!--so it’s one part self-interest and one part thriftiness.”

“And everything is alright at the farm? What’s your brother doing?”

“Mart and Ben are out making a second round of deliveries, they’re so busy! They used to be all done by one or so, but it’s three o’clock here.”

“I’m glad to hear business is booming. How is everyone out there? Mathilda and Titus, and Bekah, and the Coltranes?”

“Aunt Mathilda gave me a couple days off for canning--they want some relish, too. Jeremy sold me his old trailer, which is great. It makes it so much easier to go places with Cecil! Bekah’s great. She says ‘hi’--are you keeping the hairstyle she gave you?”

“I certainly am--everyone keeps telling me I look ten years younger! And I feel ten years younger--Dr. Ferris has me on hormone replacement therapy, and I can already feel a difference. I don’t feel so dragged out and anxious all the time. So I thought it was time to make another change.”

Trixie’s mouth goes dry, and she reaches for her glass of tea on the counter. “What kind of change?”

There’s a pause. “I just got back from White Plains,” her mother tells her.

That’s not exactly earth-shaking. “Back to school shopping?” Trixie guesses. It’s early August--that’s the norm at this time of year. Or maybe she’s been shopping the end-of-season clearance sales for herself. Or something for fall. Either way, she deserves it.

“A little. But I also--I haven’t even told your dad this--” Trixie’s attention sharpens. Moms, keeping secrets? That’s new!

“Told him what?”

“I just enrolled at White Plains Community College.”

Trixie stares at her phone for a moment. College? “Classes in gardening?” she asks cautiously.

“Not exactly.” Helen Belden sounds coy. “But it does involve digging. They have a good archaeology program, and if I do well, I may get to go on a dig next summer!”

“Okay, who is this, and what have you done with my mother?”

Moms laughs outright. “Well, you remember your father wanted to go to that car museum while we were in Los Angeles?”

“Sure, he couldn’t stop talking about it afterward.”

“While he was doing that, I opted to wait for him at the La Brea Tar Pits. It’s only a block away, and it really was fascinating--”

“If you like the smell of hot tar,” Trixie responds, who’s seen it and wasn’t impressed. “It just smells like they’re laying asphalt to me.”

“True,” her mother agrees. “But I was fascinated by the excavation, and by watching their people cleaning and preserving the specimens. And I always--” She falters for a moment. “It probably sounds odd, but I’ve always had an interest in the subject. Your grandfather the minister thought it was okay, because he thought I was intrigued by Biblical archaeology, but I was really curious about anything they were digging up.”

“All those documentaries we used to make us watch.” Trixie nods. “I didn’t realize you wanted to see them, I just thought you wanted us to see them because they were educational.”

“It’s not like you needed to watch trashy sitcoms or shoot-’em-ups--especially you, Trixie! I never had much time to read, but I could always sit and do mending with a program about Egyptian mummies on in the background. And--oh, I know this sounds silly, but I can’t tell you how often I’d be setting seedlings or hoeing in the garden and imagining I was an archaeologist excavating the site of a lost city. All I ever found was a rusty horseshoe, a silver thimble and a buffalo nickel dated 1921.”

The idea of her ever-practical mother having such fancies startles her. Then Trixie takes a deep breath. “I think that’s terrific!” she declares. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“If I think of anything, I’ll let you know. I’ll be taking three classes a week to start. Heaven knows, I’ll probably be the oldest student there, but I don’t care! I’m so pleased to have the chance.”

“So, you’re going to be digging up dinosaur bones?”

“No, that’s paleontology--that’s a different field. For that, you need a background in geology, which I’m sure is fascinating, but I’d rather learn more about people. I was surprised to hear White Plains had the program, but I’ve looked it up and apparently, it’s well-respected in the profession. There are a lot of digs around here, things like colonial and Revolutionary War sites--all over upstate New York and New England, really. Just think, I might find buried treasures that could end up in a museum or historical society!”

Trixie marvels at the note of enthusiasm in her mother’s voice. During her nineteen formative years at Crabapple Farm, Moms was a diligent gardener, an able cook, a good mom and a great sport. Finding out that all this time, she’s secretly been envisioning herself a later-day Amelia Peabody Emerson is a revelation of cosmic proportions.

“That’s pretty cool,” she says, taking a sip from the glass of tea that’s gotten warm on the counter while she was dealing with the onions. “You said you haven’t told Dad?”

“I haven’t told him I’ve enrolled yet,” Helen admits. “He knows about my predilection for archaeology, though. We discussed a lot of those documentaries afterward, and he’s always been keen on visiting historical homes and the like on our Sunday afternoon drives. I don’t think it’s going to come as a total surprise.”

“You sound really excited, and I’m happy for you,” Trixie says warmly. “I’m glad you’re getting to do somethings you’ve always wanted to do.”

“College wasn’t an option for me back then. That’s one reason I was so upset when you quit. But I’ve come to realize That I can’t live my life through you kids. You have your own lives to live--but I still love you with all my heart!--you know that, don’t you?”

‘I’ve never doubted that for a minute!”

“And of course, Bobby is in high school now, and he’s very self-sufficient. If I’m too clingy, he’s likely to resent me, and that’s the last thing I want.”

Trixie has heard Bobby talking about how he wants to learn how to fix cars and travel the country. Still, a few short months ago, her mother had been micromanaging her offspring for all she was worth. Listening to her speak calmly about her youngest leaving the nest is quite a change.

“I think you’re right. Is there any kind of class Bobby could take? I know he’s wild about old cars, like dad.”

“Hmm, I’ll look into that, if he’s interested. He’s quite busy. He’s playing basketball this year, he’s got a part-time job at Mr. Tomlinson’s and of course, his regular schoolwork.”

“It plays to his strength,” Trixie agrees. “I know his dyslexia was diagnosed earlier than mine was, but I’m definitely more comfortable with hands-on activities.”

“That’s a good point, dear. There’s also--”

There’s noise in the background, and Trixie hears her father’s voice. “Hi, honey--I’m home! What’s for dinner?”

“Oh goodness--I’ve been on the phone with Trixie, I haven’t even started anything. Sweetheart,” she says to Trixie, “I’ll let you get back to your relish. I need to get busy or we’ll starve tonight. I’m sure I’ve got something in the freezer--I remember making an extra lasagna last time. Let me see what I can dig up.”

…


End file.
